Beneath the Red
by SynesthesiaAddict
Summary: Classic Valenwind.  When Cid enters into Vincent's most guarded secrets, there is no telling what will happen... nor turning back...
1. Damnable Secret

**Beneath the Red**

**Chapter One  
>Damnable Secret<strong>

"This place… brings back memories…" Cloud said quietly, wiping some dust off of a broken stasis tube with his finger. There were words just barely visible traced along the fog that had once covered  
>the inside, but they had become illegible over time. The sharp chemical smell of Mako was rank in this old basement. Old and stale Mako.<p>

"Don't be a wuss," Cid told him with a smirk. "But then again, you could be like ol' stone-face." He glanced around. "Hey… where is he anyway?"

Vincent's shadow was nowhere to be found. The corners he usually clung to were empty and only spiders scuttled about in response. Cid wasn't sure if he was relieved or uncomfortable. He had grown  
>accustomed to the figure that was silent and barely there but terrifyingly real when trouble sprang. Either way it was unnerving.<p>

"Vince?" Cid called. "Goddammit—it's too fuckin' creepy in this mansion to be splitting up! Come on Cloud, let's go rescue the bastard… though knowing him he's probably chatting with the bats…"

"You go," Cloud replied contemplatively, deep within his thoughts. "I'll be here if you need me."

"Suit yourself," Cid told him with a shrug. Cloud had changed drastically since he had come out of his coma. More thoughtful, less stubborn and all the more resolved to defeat Sephiroth. Not like it mattered to Cid—where the Highwind went, so did her weathered pilot. That was his main concern.

Through the cobwebs, rats, spiders and rotting decrepit books Cid thought he heard voices. Creeping up to the study, he realized that the voices were a recording. A recording of what could have been something strait from Hellraiser.

Cid caught a glimpse of Vincent's face, illuminated by the staticy glow of the monitor playing the gruesome images. His skin was luminescent with it and his eyes… Cid had never seen so much hurt in a set of eyes—least of all from Vincent. For the most part his expression was concrete and lacking, but the eerie red irises was an intense swirl of pain, hatred and even fear.

"Stop it! Why do you…? Oh **GOD!"** a strangled sob cried from the audio. With a shock Cid realized that it was Vincent's recorded voice he was hearing. His stomach flip-flopped. This was incredibly personal territory he had stumbled upon. Vincent didn't even seem human on a normal basis. He seemed above humanity with a grace of the body and expression that was disciplined far beyond what could possibly be human.

This made Vincent tangible. Real. Human.

Vincent stopped the recording and ejected the hard copy—a disc labeled "Specimen 9." He stored it deep within the layers of his cloak and a deep and disturbing silence followed. Cid wasn't sure if he was seething or thinking or crying, but he did know that he was getting a cramp in his thigh from his hiding spot.

Vincent let out a sound—a grunt, a small shout or cry maybe? Whatever it was it was full of emotion, mostly anger. He put his metal fist right through the monitor. Cid jumped and nearly pissed himself with the sudden action zapping his system with adrenalin. There was a small explosion and the monitor flew off the desk and shattered on the floor into thousands of pieces—glass, tubing and wiring; sparking, sputtering and smoking.

Cid began to breathe again. This was a little too much to know about his comrade. It was disturbing… but for some reason exhilarating. It left him with a fierce curiosity as to what was on that disc.

Vincent wiped some glass off of his metal appendage in disdain and swept out of the study—cool and back in control, as if he had witnessed nothing but the dust that was now settling back into place. Just when Cid was getting ready to rise out of his corner of books, Vincent stopped his graceful gate. Cid froze.

"Cid."

The words were icy. What he said next sounded dead serious and made Cid's blood run cold.

"If you tell anyone… I will kill you."

**** **** **** ****

Cid lay awake, a burning ember and a puff of smoke his only company. Ways to extract the information—that damnable secret—from the dark man formed, changed and were ultimately dismissed in his head. He rarely nosed around in someone else's business. He was an engineer—give him a junk car and a garage and a highly custom hot rod was born. Tools and the places you could explore with them interested Cid, not people. People were even more complex than the rocket science that fueled the Highwind, and Cid just didn't have the patience to delve and dissect something that was not only beyond all math, but constantly changing.

But Vincent…

Vincent was an enigma to all, and the man sparked a maddening itch in Cid, one that had to be scratched or forever drive insane. He was perfectly fine with letting the guy be as mysterious as he damn well pleased, but that pain… Agony that intense had a deep meaning, especially coming from someone as estranged as Vincent. Cid wanted to pick it apart and see what made him tick—what drove him to be the shadow of a man that he was, beyond touch or talk.

Vincent didn't strike Cid as the drinking type, so anything to do with his buddy Mr. Daniels was out. Just asking would probably provoke something violent, or worse, something awkward. No, he would probably have to rifle through the guy's hard drive or steal the disc if he could find it.

Cid considered recruiting help. Yuffie was the brat from hell, but very useful for filching and pilfering. However, in exchange for her sticky fingers she would probably want to see the footage for herself. That didn't ride well with Cid. An invasion of privacy yes, but a secret one. Yuffie would broadcast with her big fat mouth anything and everything, damn kid. Cid couldn't think of anyone else selfish or bold enough besides her to assist.

No, he would do this alone.

He lost track of time in his loose planning. Cid didn't remember falling asleep but a knock on the door woke him at some blurred morning hour. "Cid? Hey, you alive in there?"

Cid jerked awake and stumbled towards the door. "Uhm… yeah. Yeah, what?" he asked, opening the threshold. Cloud was there, and in his shadow none other than Vincent. "We're heading out near Corel—heard there was some good Materia out that direction. You coming?"

Cid eyed Vincent and pretended to think about it. Cloud had been keeping him close lately, and it was almost suspicious. Cid usually went Materia hunting with the two of them, acting as the items manager. With FullCure Vincent was the unofficial healer and while Cloud swung around that stupid-huge sword of his he was the undisputed meat-shield. He didn't want to throw the balance off, but this was a prime opportunity to snoop without having to worry about being caught—by Vincent anyway.

Cid made up some lame excuse he half mumbled and didn't even really justify. He felt Vincent's eyes on him. Did he suspect? It was almost enough to dissuade him.

Almost.

Vincent's door was locked. It made Cid sort of snort. He had all the keys, what was the point? Did it mean that he didn't trust anyone and didn't think that Cid had access or just a simple gesture towards privacy and secrecy?

Vincent's room was plain and clean. There was no decoration—only a few simple toiletries sitting on the tin dresser and a personal firearms arsenal peaking out from under the bed. The book on music theory lying on the pillow threw Cid for a loop. He wasn't sure if that brought him closer to humanity or pushed him farther away from it. Other than that there was no indication that anything strange went on behind this door.

There, the pull out laptop. The disc was nowhere to be found, but the monitor had been recently used and right on the desktop was a folder labeled "Specimen 9." Cid glanced out into the hallway to make sure that he could do this in privacy. If Vincent even caught wind that he was butting in on his business like this Cid was sure that he would make good on his threat.

Too easy? He wished. A window popped up as he tried to open the file. "User VV has placed a password on C/: Specimen 9," it read with a space to type. Smart bastard. Cid thought. He used to be really good at this. What would Vincent use for a password?

He tried a couple of firearms names, none of which yielded access. This was now a game of getting into Vincent's head without the help of whatever was on this disc. Tough one. Something was crumpled behind the screen, half-wedged behind the desk and the wall. Cid wrenched it out and inspected it. A brunette in a white lab coat. Cute—she reminded him of Shera.

Oh Jesus, who was that chic that Vincent muttered about wistfully whenever her actually talked? Lisa? Laura?

Lucretia!

Access Granted.

So it seemed Vincent was a little more of a romantic than he guessed. Well, with a face like his and pain like that, he was sure that the woman in the picture had only lead to more misery for the poor guy. It would have been in a frame otherwise, not wadded and forgotten in a corner.

The folder held a series of video files with names like "S9Test03," and "S9MakoReac67." Cid held his breath as he opened the first. This was going to be a delve into the unknown.

End Chapter One  
>**********************************************************<p> 


	2. Dark Secret

WARNING: IF NEEDLES, RAPE OR SURGERY MAKE YOU QUEEZY, SKIP AHEAD A BIT, TRUST ME.

Beneath the Red

Chapter Two  
>Dark Secret<p>

#### ### ###  
>Static, then an image. Muffled audio, clearing up as the file progressed.<p>

"Subject Specimen 9, December 5th, test three."

Hojo wrote a few things down on his clipboard and adjusted the restraints on his specimen—a human male with shiny black hair grown past his ears, naked, bruised and helpless.

"How are you feeling today, Vincent?"

"Go away…" the subject mumbled miserably, turning his head away.

"Today we will be continuing Jenova therapy," Hojo said into the mic, bringing out a tray of sterilized needles with sensors affixed at the ends. "Research will be conducted on the reactivity to elemental Mako and Jenova cell enhancement." He turned to his subject and pulled on some latex gloves. There was a visible smirk on his face. "Don't worry, discomfort is … normal for this procedure."

The subject closed his eyes, looking like he was trying to focus on something else other than thick, sharp needles being slid under the skin at least half an inch. He bore the insertion of about 78 of them directly into his veins—particularly the ones under more sensitive flesh at the inner arms, wrists, neck and feet—with a grimace.

"You like that, don't you?" Hojo sneered, just barely in range of the microphone. He was hard, stretching his pants and enjoying every minute in his sick twisted way. He came back to the mic. "Commencing test one."

Vincent screamed as electricity danced between the needle-tips, the agony obviously beyond all pride or shame. His muscles strained in vain against the straps. There was laughter.

"Test two…"

Five tests later left the subject bloody and exhausted with pain, but still conscious. Hojo couldn't contain himself anymore it seemed. He cranked the platform around at a 30 degree angle with his subject hanging down and released the throbbing hard on from his coat. Grabbing his subject's hair he roughly shoved the ugly thing down Vincent's throat, fucking the delicate mouth and disregarding the chokes and vomit. His victim was too weak to resist.

Throwing the platform back to a 180 Hojo threw open the leg restraints and violated his specimen, probing and fucking him without sympathy or abandon. His subject clenched his teeth, fists and eyes—refusing to cry.

Static.

############### ### ###### #

"Subject Specimen 9, January 22nd, test 38. How do you feel, Vincent?"

His subject didn't reply. He was in a different position now, on something similar to a wrack. His head hung low and his hair was grown past his chin. Scabs and scars covered his body—very much so on his left arm.

"Subject has become dramatically less responsive," Hojo noted to the mic. "Infection of the left limb has spread midway to the joint, and is unresponsive to curative Materia."

"I hate you…" the specimen slurred druggedly.

"Nurse, prepare for an amputation procedure. This ridiculous infection is interfering with my readings."

"Sir, we are out of anesthetic." The microphone just barely caught the female voice in the background. "Our next order comes in next week."

"Did I ask for anesthetic?"

*

Cid jumped as he heard the high-pitched ring of the PHS down the hall. The thing was abnormally loud, and it startled his edgy nerves. What he was watching wasn't helping either. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably to watch the amputation. Vincent was awake—awake and aware as they sliced in, tied off veins and tore the bone off. What was worse was that those eyes watched every second of it. Obscenities not even Cid had uttered were screamed out in light of this fiery anguish from his pretty little mouth. Vincent watched them, his face all twisted in horror, fear and anger, like he couldn't take his eyes away as they grafted that ugly claw onto him… just like Cid couldn't tear his eyes away.

Finally he just selected the next file, for fear of his now overactive bile duct.

*

"…How do you feel, Vincent?"

The subject looked up with a hollow expression of apathy. Those eyes burned not a pale blue anymore,  
>but a deep crimson. His hair was well past his shoulders now. Hojo brushed it and Vincent scowled at the contact.<p>

"She's dead you know."

Vincent perked and squinted in suspicion.

"Lucretia It's a pity really. We were considering getting married—for the cause you know…"

"Like hell you were…" the subject growled.

Hojo raised an eyebrow—the specimen rarely communicated anymore. "Really, we were. The child was a complete success, but the mother died of Mako Poisoning. Funny… she was asking about you before the end…"

Vincent suddenly snapped and exploded in a fury of screams. "YOU **KILLED** HER YOU SICK  
>FUCK!" he howled, spitting in Hojo's face. "YOU <em>LIED<em> TO HER! SHE _**TRUSTED**_ YOU!"

"There's no need to get upset now…" Hojo told him dismissively, wiping his face. "She knew the risk—,"

"THAT BABY WAS MINE YOU FUCK—NOT YOURS, MINE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT—!"

"Subject is becoming hostile, begin to commence lock down…"

"Maybe I deserved the shit—_the sadistic SHIT _you put me through—**BUT NOT HER! **_**NOT  
>LUCRECIA!<strong>_" he screamed, literally freaking out. His cries turned inhuman and a shriek of pain erupted from him. He writhed and spasmed against the restraints, which began to tear. Fangs ripped out from his existing teeth, his eyes burned red and his skin began to churn a sickly purple color. Something monstrous began to crawl out from under his skin—something able to break free of the restraints.

"Red alert! Subject is loose and hostile! Lock down! Repeat! Lock! Down!"

Static.

############################################################

Cid was horrified. There they were—all the answers to his superficial little questions. The trauma, the torture, and the constant rape… all the pieces fell into place. Anyone with something like that eating at his psyche was surely insane! Or at least in Vincent's case, so withdrawn that social contact was next to impossible.

His heart broke for Vincent. Now that he had figured the man out, there had to be a way—

Cid was ripped out off the chair and thrown into the metal hull—pinned against the wall by a golden metal claw. The cigarette was forced out of his mouth, along with any air in his mouth and bravery in his gut.

Vincent wasn't even looking at him. His expression was calm, his eyes were closed and the only indication that he was infuriated enough to kill was the slight twitch of his eyebrow.

"No one… _no one _… has ever seen that footage… and lived to tell about it. Not a soul."

End Chapter Two 


	3. Black Secret

Chapter Three  
>Black Secret<p>

Cid tried to keep his head about him, despite the fact that his feet were dangling and he could barely breathe. "Vince! Hold up! Wait!" he choked. "I just… wanted to know!"

"Knowledge has a price, Cid," Vincent said simply, tightening his grip.

"You won't kill me! You can't!" Cid yelled, kicking. Stars from lack of oxygen bloomed in his vision, blurring the room.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because… you're… still human!" Cid managed.

Vincent eased his grip and actually looked Cid in the eye. "What… did you just say?"

Cid gasped for the now more available air. "I saw it! I'm no shrink, but I know somethin' about pain! You're still in there, I swear to fucking god!"

Vincent released him, momentarily phased. Cid dropped, coughed and rubbed his sore neck with one hand, the other on the floor making sure he was on solid ground. "You're too close," the tall man finally said quietly.

Cid wasn't too sure what he meant by that. He rose to his feet, grateful that Vincent had let go when he did. "I meant what I said," Cid said as he caught his breath. "You wouldn't have kept it otherwise."

Vincent cast his gaze at him inquisitively. Cid produced the crumpled picture of Lucretia Vincent accepted it and Cid read his eyes as they followed the image—his face remained porcelain. He was reminiscing. "I _was_ going to throw this out…" he mused wistfully.

Cid was unsure what his next action should be. Now that he had an idea of the inner-workings of this man were all about his mechanic instincts provoked him to tinker and construct—replacing all that was wrong and sick about him. But Vincent was a person… people aren't so easy to fix, let alone take apart and reassemble. The silence was starting to get awkward.

"Sorry…" Cid mumbled, turning to shuffle out with what little dignity he had left.

Vincent's hand whipped out and grabbed Cid's arm. His grip was tight and urgent. "You don't understand the seriousness of what you have seen. You can't say anything."

"I'm not gonna—,"

"Highwind, I'm serious."

"I get it. You'll do worse to me than kill me," Cid agreed, putting his hands up as a gesture that he didn't intend anything malicious—and by god he didn't, that footage was far too intense to think about, let alone talk about. "I'm sure you're damn well capable of it."

"So it comes to a threat then…" Vincent said softly.

"Frankly, I don't blame you," Cid said flatly.

Vincent seemed to search for words. Expression wasn't his strong suit. "It never used to be that way…" he finally said. "I wasn't a monster then."

"Never said you were," Cid told him. "Never said you are."

The crimson irises darted accusingly. "Are you trying to comfort me?"

Cid shrugged. "If you're willing, I guess so. I mean—,"

"Do you honestly think it's that easy?" Vincent hissed. "How could you? How could I?" He withdrew into himself again. "It would be pointless."

Cid dug around in his pocket for a moment and fished out a gleaming yellow orb, small enough to be easily clenched in a fist. He had kept it because Venus Gospel had more Materia slots available than whatever Red was using. Sense. Used on beasts and strangers it only bestowed knowledge of how  
>powerful they were and what element they were most closely innate to. Used on a comrade, the sensory input was beyond telepathic.<p>

"You don't have to say anything, Vince," Cid said, offering the oversized marble. "But I'm not forcing you to do anything, got it?"

Vincent accepted it with a frown. "Get out," he ordered quietly.

Cid didn't need to be told twice and quickly complied. He found that his knees had become very weak and that his heart was in his throat. He was positive that the incident had been the most anyone had ever conversed with Vincent. The phrase, "You're too close," suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

Vincent was afraid. Afraid of what Cid would find beneath the red.

**** **** **** ****

Cid awoke with a start in the dead of night. He had dreamed that it had been him on the examination table, spread naked and helpless under a harsh and hot laboratory lamp. Violated by needles, Mako and the cold hard penis of an old pervert hell bent on causing him pain. He dreamed that his door creaked open and a thousand nightmares sprang from Vincent's room to his, devouring him…

Wait, the door _was_ open. He clearly remembered closing it.

He jumped nearly a foot when he realized that there was a figure sitting on the edge of his bed. He didn't recognize the silhouette at all until it looked up slightly and the long strands of hair parted to reveal a pale face and deep red eyes.

It was Vincent.

"Sweet mother-fucking Mary on ecstasy, what the **FUCK** is wrong with you?" Cid shrieked in alarm.

"I told you I was a monster," Vincent whispered.

"Don't be stupid, I … just didn't recognize you…" Cid dismissed, regaining his composure. "Without your cloak you're…"

Vincent didn't change his expression. "I'm what?"

"Ah…" Cid mumbled. "Nothin'…" _You're fuckin' gorgeous…_ he was about to say. Cid had never seen Vincent without his layers of clothing to shield out and shun all human contact. He was wearing a silk, black button down and his black dress pants. His face and neck were exposed—pale and beautiful in the bare sliver of moonlight that trickled in from the Highwind's window. He looked skinny and vulnerable without his layers, though his long hair that hung over his shoulders acted as his shelter in the cloak's absence.

Though he had experimented in his youth, Cid had considered himself strait. Try anything once and if you don't like it, forget it. Cid had tried and disliked, but something in Vincent's feline and even shy nature made him want to reconsider, as long as it was with this sultry stranger…

What was he thinking? Vincent was here for… well… _something_ he was sure, but most certainly not sex…

"A freak, I know," Vincent sighed heavily.

"You didn't come here to beat up on yourself, did you?" Cid asked, lighting a cigarette.

Vincent was quiet, deep within his own world. He was restlessly running his fingers over and around the yellow Sense orb. "Don't make me regret this…" He tossed the orb at Cid, catching a painful glare from the moon as it arced in the air. Cid jerked to catch it and the moment it made contact time stopped and Vincent's mind was sweeping over his own.

It was black and cold—an icy red blanket covering all the truth and hurt buried deep under years of sleep and—in his eyes—repentance. "Nothing's changed…" Vincent's voice coaxed. "The senate is still corrupt and the emperor remains insane…"

The black swallowed Cid and suddenly he was very afraid. Out of nowhere hands belonging to darkened and vague faces grabbed him from all directions and pinned him down. Though he kicked and screamed he was utterly helpless as they tore all his clothing off and beat him into submission. Cold and bony fingers pried into his body from every angle and into his every orphus violently and painfully. He found himself screaming Vincent's exact words.

"Stop it! Why do you….? OH GOD!" he choked, attempting to expel the rapist(s) vainly. Trapped within the twisted fingers of fear and rejection there was an epitome of despair that washed over and around him quite literally, sweeping him away into an ocean of regret.

Drowning! He was drowning! He couldn't take a breath, what was happening?

The tide deposited him onto an ash colored shore, where Cid gasped for air that was cold and rank with the smell of death. He heard Vincent again, though he wasn't lucky enough to see the figure and be disillusioned with safety. The voice was shattered, broken, and afraid.

"Not you… not you, not you, NOT YOU!" it cried frantically. It choked on a sob. "There is no place to run … all the nightmares and all the monsters… all the monsters they come alive! Okay… okay, I'm sorry Lucretia, come back inside! I didn't mean to shout… We can… laugh a little… die a little…"

"Vincent?" a far away voice asked. "Vincent can you hear me?"

Cid dragged himself to his hands and knees and looked up, still drenched in mistrust. A beautiful woman was holding out her hand, offering help. Brown ringlets of hair framed painfully bright Mako eyes and cascaded off her shoulders. "I'm… I'm not Vincent…" Cid tried to say.

"I trust you," she said. Her voice was distorted and sounded like an old analog recording. She was the woman in the picture—Lucretia. Cid reached up to touch her hand, but the moment he did her skin began to shrivel and char black. She screamed and stared at her body in terror as it spread to consume her. "I trusted you, Vincent!" she cried in blistering agony. She crumbled to nothing.

_Is this what you dream?_ Cid thought in horror. _This is what torments you?_

_Hojo is dead but he lives in the throbbing illness of my memory… he decays but his scars remain._

Something twisted deep within Cid's gut, causing him to vomit a black sticky liquid violently. His shoulders heaved weakly, then he felt them bulge. He looked at his hands in horror—they were clawed, becoming sickly grey. The scent of blood filled his nostrils. _Kill…_ an instinct commanded. _Kill… devour the weak…_His back tore open with a ripping torturous sensation blasting his nervous system—releasing bloody, sticky wings.

Stop it! Stop it! There's no way out! Make it stop! There is no sanctuary here, there is no escape! Get it out! Get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT!

"**VINCENT!"** Cid screamed, overwhelmed by the dread that lurked beneath the red. He shattered into a million glass pieces, falling endlessly into a void of hatred and grief.

Time resumed. Cid's whole body flinched as he dropped the Sense orb as if it burned him with a shout of surprise and pain. "Dear **GOD**, what the FUCK was that shit?"

Vincent was still seated at the end of the bed; not a moment had passed. He was placid, staring at some poster of a topless porn star, but not really looking at it. "That was me," he said quietly, retrieving the orb and exploring the smoothness of it with the fingers of his human hand again. "Do you understand now? My punishment cannot be expressed by meager words. You see now. I can't possibly be human."

Cid was making sure his heart wouldn't explode or something. Sweat had drenched his brow. It was a timeless split-second, and it had been the most terrifying eternity he'd ever experienced. Vincent was far beyond repair—far beyond anything he could ever say or do without starting from scratch.

"What could you have POSSIBLY done to deserve THAT?" Cid demanded.

"I allowed her to die. I let a madman do the same to many. It's only fitting," Vincent sighed, still not looking at anything in particular. He was speaking at last, yes, but no healing came from the words spoken. Obviously there was a self-esteem issue if he honestly thought he deserved it… Cid decided that if they survived Meteor that he would pick up a textbook on psychology or something.

Cid shook his head and rubbed his throbbing temples. "I… dunno what to say."

Vincent got to his feet. "I didn't think so."

"Vince, hold up!" Cid told him. Vincent paused, but Cid lost his words. He wanted to assure him that it couldn't have possibly been his fault—none of it could be! But he knew that it would be useless. What could he possibly say to compete against the blackest pit of hell raging war behind those red pools of pain? Vincent had his one hand on the metal bedpost, slack and ready to sever the intense connection formed between the two of them. Cid was going to lose him after delving so incredibly deep. Unintentional, but still there, throbbing like a scab itching to be picked only to spew forth a slew of sickness when the urge was at last satisfied.

Neither of them expected what Cid said. Or rather what he did. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together, reaching out to touch his ebony silken hair.

Vincent jerked at the action, caught off guard. _Well fuck, he's strait and now I'm gonna get my ass kicked…_ Cid thought. There was a tense moment—Vincent clenched his fist around the bedpost and closed his eyes. Cid expected his eyebrow to start twitching in anger.

However, this was not the case. Uneasily, Vincent wrapped his arms around Cid and deepened the contact. His breath caught and the intimacy intensified. Cid was already hard, bringing their tongues into a feverish pitch together, groping Vincent's groin. Jesus, he was harder than him! Stupid… buckle…

Vincent pulled away abruptly, with an unreadable expression. Without a sound or an explanation he was gone, only the creak of the door evidence that he had ever been there. That and the musty, ancient scent that followed him—like an old spice cabinet. It lingered.

Cid found himself wondering not about why he suddenly backed down, but about the expression on his face and why he couldn't interpret it. Ah, he had it. The expression wasn't one he had seen before… because it wasn't one of pain.

Beneath the red, some of the monsters had been quelled.

End of chapter three  
>************************************************************************<p> 


	4. Wistful Secret

Chapter Four  
>Wistful Secret<p>

Cid was restless. It was early. Or late. It was that time of night when the hour numbers were small, when the drunk with the most fortitude turned in and the insomniac awoke, unable to do anything  
>but watch infomercials until dawn.<p>

He was smoking a cigarette, leaning over the railing of the Highwind and scattering ash over some untamed and unnamed section of Cosmo Canyon. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep for days, since he had seen Vincent's dreams, so uncensored and vicious. Not very well anyway…

He was so close…

It just maddened him that Vincent had been there, in his arms and had squirmed out of his grasp. Why he couldn't guess. The expression perplexed him. The only indication that Vincent had acknowledged the connection and hadn't severed it was a sudden jump into battle to accept a possible critical blow to the head for Cid. He usually wasn't one to do something like that, given how frail he really was. It proved to Cid that he was at least thinking about him, which was far more than he  
>had expected from the enigma.<p>

Cid felt eyes staring at him from a dark corner. He had grown used to the presence whenever Vincent approached, making startled 'Jesus Christ!'s less common. "Hey," he said. What in the world was he supposed to say after something that intimate?

"I believe I owe you an apology," the silken voice said, followed by the figure deeply shrouded within his cloak.

"Huh?" Cid asked, befuddled. "The hell for?"

Vincent sort of struggled to find words. Cid had come to recognize his eerie silences when verbally approached as such. It wasn't that he didn't want to communicate, it was that he couldn't. Not very well. "You were exposed to something… rather traumatizing. I feel that I have… contaminated you in some way. Please forgive me."

Cid laughed suddenly. Maybe it surprised Vincent, he wasn't sure. "Well fuck, Vince! Why do you blame yourself for the stupidest shit? I offered, remember?"

Vincent's lips twitched as he too leaned over the railing. The wind caught his hair and a bit of cloth and played with both, whipping them about in a random, billowy dance. "I suppose," he finally said.

"Hey Vince?"

"Hm?"

"What does… 'the senate is still corrupt and the emperor remains insane,' mean?"

Vincent sort of thought about it. "It's a metaphor to ShinRa I suppose."

"Huh. Creepy, but accurate."

"You think I'm creepy."

Cid smirked. It mattered to Vincent what he thought of him. It sort of swelled inside of him, filling up with a sort of giddiness. Damn, he was sexy like that, no matter how insecure the guy was. "In a good way," Cid said lightheartedly. "Life really isn't all that bad, you know? It's not all sorrow, though sometimes it kinda seems that way—like that big fireball in the sky. That's depressing enough. The past _is_ important, but it's over. There comes a point where we all just need to move on… you know?"

"Is healing even possible at that point?" Vincent asked wistfully, more to himself than to Cid.

"For sure," Cid assured. "Never said it was gonna be easy, speedy or pretty. But definitely possible. I'm not gonna be the one to tell you what to do though. It ain't my place."

Vincent scratched his nose. One more gesture that made him human and not some intangible phantom. Cid repressed a shudder. More human than any of them in fact, with knowledge of things so black that he had done the very human thing—withdraw. Cid's thoughts drifted in ad out of the vague fantasies that had developed loosely over the last day or so. He wanted to prove just how human Vincent was to him by making him croon and moan under pleasures best described in the smutty novels that Shera used to read. Those thoughts threatened to give Cid a hard on.

"Do you…?" Vincent began, but faltered. Cid waited for him to feel out what he was going to say, but nothing came.

"What?"

"Nothing…" he replied, drawing away from the railing as the sky began to lighten in the east. "Nothing worthy of anything…"

Cid didn't realize what he was doing. As Vincent turned to leave Cid's hand reached out on its own accord and weaved through his thick black strands, slipping through the well groomed gossamer like water. Vincent stopped and looked at him. It was that expression again, the one Cid couldn't really decipher because pain was semi-absent in it.

It was Vincent who initiated, which caught Cid completely off-guard. The spice cabinet scent overwhelmed Cid as Vincent swept in close and pressed his face against Cid's in a brief but elating kiss. His pale face was deceivingly hot against his, and so incredibly smooth.

Cid's hands struggled to pull them closer and to find a place that wasn't awkward. A jolt shot strait from his heart to his hard on when he felt Vincent's arousal against his. He wanted this, it hadn't just been a passing tolerance. He wasn't sure if this was pure lust, a gesture of understanding or simply two men expressing the deepness of what they had shared. He wanted to tear away the shell of clothes  
>and barriers and make Vincent scream his name—to force him to believe he was human.<p>

These were illusions of grandeur apparently. Vincent wrenched himself away once again, as quickly as he had pressed in. There was an exhilarated tinge of color to his face as he caught his breath, but then a hasty gain of composure had him brisking away back into the living quarters.

"Dammit, Vince! Why d'you keep DOING that?" Cid shouted desperately, grabbing a fistful of cloak.

Vincent turned, his face hard and resolved again. He gently pried Cid's fingers away and studied them with a cool grace. Words were suddenly very easy from him. "Your dreams, Cid. Didn't they come true?"

Cid was sort of taken aback by the question. Yes, his heart's desire—to see the stars from a throne well above the stratosphere—had been fulfilled in a hasty but thrilling moment of glory. "I… yeah. You were there…"

"What stopped you before?"

Cid took his hand back, tingling from the contact. If the urge wasn't going to be satisfied, there was no need to feed his cock images of Vincent bringing his lips to those fingers, teasing… offering… "Uh… circumstance, I guess."

"Ah. Circumstance," Vincent approved with a nod. He turned again, this time without a protest from Cid. "Then you have your answer."

Circumstance? Vincent had a circumstance he was worried about?

End of Chapter Four 


	5. Bottled Secret

Chapter Five  
>Bottled Secret<p>

Cid blew it. He knew he did. Vincent no longer replied to Cloud's requests to accompany him Materia hunting. He had even been cruel enough to say at one point of the pestering, "When you are  
>finished playing and decide to move on to North Crater, you may rouse me. Otherwise, kindly get the hell out of my room."<p>

Cloud took it harder than Cid thought he would, but that was farthest from his mind. It had been something he said—something in the way that he had demanded for a follow-through had offended the shadowy man and had driven him back into his hole. Cid couldn't stand it that he was suffering alone in his room full of the blackest, most soul shattering nightmares imaginable.

He could do nothing. Vincent wouldn't even reply to him, and no reminders that he hadn't eaten for two days or that they were passing a shop that sold high caliber ammunition for some of his rarer firearms could lure him out. Cid couldn't find it in him to just give up on the guy like he would with any other love interest. A glance into his most personal thoughts shouldn't be thrown aside lightly. He found himself passing Vincent's door to and from the deck more often, though it was well out of his way.

Cid cringed whenever he faintly heard the staticy voices from the Specimen 9 videos, knowing that Vincent was forcing himself to relive the torture. He was picking at the scab, not letting it heal. Most of the time there was silence. If it was exceptionally late at night, perhaps a sound that could be mistaken  
>for quiet weeping could be heard if Cid's ear was pressed against the door.<p>

He had already pounded on the door and threatened to break it down, but Vincent remained untouchable. He could have used his keys, but he didn't dare. At first anyway. What could possibly be destroying Vincent at this quick a pace? Circumstance?

Cid was at wits end. At last, one evening when he was sure all his crew andthe AVALANCHE members were all asleep, he fished out his keys from one of his many pockets and allowed himself into the confines of Vincent's room once again, bracing himself for venomous looks, harsh words and possibly  
>even violence.<p>

Vincent, Cid was shocked to see, was sound asleep. He was sprawled across the sheets on his stomach, claw firmly clenching a pillow that was a little worse for wear from this habit. His hand was wedged between the pillow his head was under, his hair slightly tangled and his heavy  
>breathing produced a soft snore every couple breaths.<p>

Human. Almost _too_ human…

Cid's eyes drank in the sight of his naked torso, pale and ribby, marred with scars but beautiful all the same, with a perfectly shaped spine that disappeared under the pants he slept in. His legs were tangled in the sheets he had cast off, twitching in a dream.

He wasn't sleeping so soundly as it seemed at first glance. The expression on his face was neither the stoic plastic one he cast all day, nor the peaceful slack of sleep, but a troubled one with his eyebrows knit together and a tiny frown. Cid didn't dare wake him from his incoherent mumblings.

Instead, he found himself yet again sifting through Vincent's hard drive, determined to put an end to this particular outlet of masochism. He hadn't changed to password, so it was easy enough to dump the contents of Specimen 9 into the recycle bin, empty the bin, clear the cookies and shred the remains of the compressed binary code that tormented him.

"Stop!"

Cid nearly choked on his cigarette, expecting Vincent to fling him around like a doll again, but looking over his shoulder he saw that Vincent was only talking in his restless nightmare. He had rolled onto his back and his fist was clenched, but Cid breathed again. False alarm.

Now for the hard copy…

Specimen 9 was easy to obtain—it was sitting in the drawer. One of the few things that Vincent actually used it for. Vincent's dream was taking a rather bad turn at this point, judging from his more helpless murmurs. Cid decided to leave before he woke from—

"Lucretia!" he cried hoarsely, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and breath fast. He focused directly on the frozen Cid, coming out of his fog quickly. Cid saw his bewilderment immediately turn to an unwelcome scowl. "What…?" His eyes spotted the disc. "Traitor!" he snarled, lunging for it.

Cid acted on adrenalin alone. Jolting out of his stupor he just barely darted out of the way of Vincent's initial attack. Had he been fully awake Cid was sure that he wouldn't have been able to pull that stunt off. Still acting on adrenalin, more worried about the disc than himself, Cid chucked it across the room and against a wall as Vincent got a grip around his collar. The disc shattered into several pieces and Cid found himself flung up and over, then down onto the bed, facing a furious upside-down Vincent.

"You idiot!" Vincent hissed, not taking time to find any elaborate vocabulary in his fury. Gone was the composure of his previous outburst, though he looked far calmer than any other man in a similar position. "What did you think you were accomplishing!"

Cid gasped as the golden claw pushed hard on his breastbone, constricting his breathing. "I… wanted to help!"

"What made you THINK—,"

Cid gripped the claw and used all of his strength to push it back enough so he could gulp air in. Vincent was about to crush his chest in! "If you wanna kill yourself go jump off the deck, don't do it here—rotting like a piece of shit! Meteor would get you first you selfish bastard!" he shouted boldly. "I'm doing you a favor! So go ahead, kill me—you won't get a chance to thank me later, fucker!"

Vincent didn't break the intense gaze they held, nor did he release Cid. There were no words exchanged for a silence that stretched unbearably long. And then Cid's chest started to bounce slightly—he was rasping out laughter. Vincent seemed a little to startled to stay as infuriated as he was.

"Heh heh…I'm getting déjà vu, aren't you Vince?" Cid chuckled. His insides were quivering, making the laugh a little high pitched, but the irony of the situation _was_ laughable…

Vincent pulled back suddenly, drawing into himself as if he were cold. "You're right… I'm a fool…"

"Hey, don't kick yourself…" Cid retorted, sitting up and rubbing the bruise. "It's just a disc…" Vincent gave him a look that Cid had no choice but to agree with. He knew damn well that it wasn't _just_ a disc. "Vince…" Cid sighed. "You gotta put a stop to this shit. What happened to healing?"

"My punishment is not finished—,"

"Oh come off that shit!" Cid snapped firmly. He was ordering Vincent now, not just telling him. He wasn't sure how effective it would be, but asking obviously wasn't cutting it. "You're just cramming that bull 'cause you're too pussy to let it go! Be a man, dammit! Stop crying over a chick that's long gone, deal with the fact that you were taken advantage of and concentrate on what's under your nose!  
>Jesus Christ!" Cid swore frantically.<p>

Vincent looked like Cid had just punched him in the gut. Cid immediately regretted being so harsh and moved to apologize with some contact—where not even Cid was sure—but Vincent pushed him back, eyes closed in his quiet but frantic thoughts.

He took a shaky breath and spoke—as composed as he could manage. "I… don't think it was right of you to act so rashly without my permission…but…"

"_But…"_

"You're right. I should be thanking you."

Cid was not expecting these words, and his surprise must have shown. Vincent was watching him with a curious scrutiny. "Shoes," he suddenly said.

Cid blinked. "Huh?" Had he finally cracked?

"Your shoes. I don't like them on my sheets."

"Oh," Cid replied in understanding. That translated to either "Get out of my bed," or "Get undressed." They had two very dramatically different meanings and a mistake in understanding would lead to either disaster or disappointment. Cid had no intention of leaving just yet, so he risked disaster and pulled off his shoes as he sat in the tangle of sheets. That fact alone made him feel hot and fact that Vincent was only half dressed and a few inches away threatened to make him hard. So he took off his socks as well, and on a strange impulse his jacket too. Beater, jeans, boxers and cigarette. That was all he had left now.  
>"Happy?"<p>

As if to say, "One last thing…" Vincent reached towards Cid's lips, removed the cigarette and extinguished it on the bedpost, leaning very, very close. The heat of him made Cid antsy, but his soft breath so near his neck made him lose control and go hard immediately. If Vincent had been testing him to see how much he could take he lost quickly.

Unable to take anymore, Cid wrapped his arms around Vincent and planted a rough kiss onto his lips. The force of it threw them back and Cid lost all restraint, holding him down and exploring his neck, ears and that hollow in the collar bone, so smooth and pale—but so very hot and pulsing.

Vincent allowed it and seemed swept away with it, though he made no sound of approval or dislike. His breath was ragged and his hand gripped at Cid's shirt in a sort of desperate way, his claw clenching tightly at the mattress.

Cid was bound and determined to make him enjoy this. He wanted him to moan, scream and cry out his name—just to prove to Vincent that he was still human and there was something most definitely worth living for in this world… something worth saving it for. The buckle that had so confounded him on his  
>first attempt to "seduction" gave easily and all the proof Cid needed to continue jumped out at him, hard and slick with all the signs of need for attention.<p>

He heard a sharp gasp as his devoured to core of Vincent, but it wasn't quite what he wanted to hear. Cid felt blood rush to his ears—the sensation was odd. If he remembered correctly he'd choked, cursed and sworn the action off forever as a teen. But to frantically give pleasure, desperate for a cry, a whisper… something to show that it felt at least alright… that was new and exhilarating.

Vincent's fingers were blindly and repeatedly digging into Cid's scalp but his hair wasn't long enough to pull. It was encouraging, so Cid brought his entire mouth down, accepting Vincent's whole length to the back of his throat. It was so masculine, so sexy, so _Vincent_ and once again there was a ragged gasp,  
>but no cry of pleasure, no words, no pleas and no begs for mercy.<p>

Something that Shera had taught him once upon a long time ago drifted into his mind—subtlety. Instant gratification was nice, but not memorable. Cid forced himself to slow down, draw the sensation out and even tease mercilessly. Vincent was going to scream, dammit, and love it.

A longing noise rose from him as Cid paid homage only to the very head of his cock. Not quite a groan, but an indication that he wanted more. Not good enough. Cid refused to fulfill until he got what he wanted. And given the blush rising in Vincent's face it _had_ to be any minute now…

"Cid _please!"_ he finally gasped, trembling with his restraint.

Cid found himself laughing quietly and gave him what he wanted, resuming a wild pace of driving his head down and engulfing the slippery member, giving all the pressures and teases in all the right spots, then withdrawing to immediately swallow whole again. Vincent's moans were almost inaudible, but there and slowly building momentum as he approached climax.

At last Vincent let out a stifled cry and poured his release into Cid's mouth. Cid winced, but swallowed. Not a pleasant feeling, but well worth it to hear _something_ that resembled orgasm. Cid was painfully hard, and the need to take action soon was overwhelming.

Vincent was studying him closely now—Cid knew he must look pretty disheveled. He sat up and continued unfinished kisses, hot but soft, frantic but not overbearing. Between half muttered desires and a lingering unspoken bond some sort of loose plan of action formed.

"Do you want to…?"

"Yeah…"

"Lay back."

Cid did as he was told, wonder swirling around in his lust-hazed thoughts. He wasn't in control anymore and suddenly he was a little unnerved. His unease passed quickly though, once Vincent had his rock-hard erection out, pumping it in a hypnotically delicious rhythm. Cid moaned loudly, at last given the attention he needed. It wouldn't take much more…

Vincent brought him to the very edge when his tongue ran circles down the length of Cid's shaft. Bastard had experience, but of course he wouldn't say anything. Cid felt more blood rush to his head… he was about to…

But Vincent pulled away at the last second. Cid groaned and cursed, defeated. He quickly forgave Vincent thought when he straddled, facing away from him and lowered himself onto his slick hard sex, slowly clenching and unclenching, sending ripples of "holy fuck!" as Cid thought of it.

Definitely experienced.

It didn't take much longer at all. Cid was spent in a few minutes, wrapping his arms around Vincent's skinny torso and doing his best to match pace. Then with a long cry, it was over and Cid caught his breath with his face buried in the long tendrils of hair, arms still locked around his lover in a strange sort of afterglow.

There was a silence—not an awkward one, but it still hung about in the room, amplifying the slow of breathing and the smell of sweat and sex in the air. It also amplified the sudden footsteps outside the door. They were walking away—whoever they belonged to had been standing there long enough to know.

"Who the fuck—?" Cid demanded, shifting to get up.

"Ah. That would be the circumstance," Vincent said thoughtfully, as if nothing had occurred for the past hour.

Vincent's circumstance… no you can't be serious…

Can you?

End of chapter five 


	6. Exposed Secret

Chapter 6  
>Exposed Secret<p>

Cloud, the bastard. No wonder he had been so antsy about Vincent. It explained why suddenly he was asking Yuffie and Red to accompany his Materia hunts instead of Cid and the elusive Vincent.

Cid didn't like the idea of a soap opera on his ship, let alone a love-triangle between Cloud, Vincent and himself. That would just be so 20-year-old of them. Well he couldn't blame Cloud… Jesus was this a premature midlife crisis? It better _not_ be… In fact, Cid was very uncomfortable with Cloud in the picture. Did Vincent open up to him too? Probably not… but he just couldn't be sure about that…

Cid found Vincent in the conference room, customizing something he liked to call the Death Penalty. Parts were spread out on the table; he was trading the privacy of his quarters for the space to spread out. Vincent gave a little nod of acknowledgment, but said nothing.

"Hey, can we talk here?" Cid asked.

Vincent shrugged. No warmer or colder than he usually was.

"About Cloud."

Vincent paused for a moment, then continued to work, very easily doing most of the reassembling with his dexterous right arm. The hesitation only proved Cid's hypothesis. "Alright."

"We're both adults here… what exactly is going on?" Cid asked. He was hurt yes, but he'd be damned if he'd let Vincent know that.

"I didn't indicate that anything would continue," he stated calmly. Cid's heart sank when he finished the sentence with chilling eye contact. "To either of you."

The song _Cold as Ice_ suddenly popped into Cid's head as he scowled. "That's fine," he lied. "If that's the way you wanted it after that shit you know… fine." He couldn't help the slight bitterness that trickled in his voice. Subtle, but audible to Vincent's trained ear.

"Interesting…" he mused after a moment's hesitation. But he said nothing more.

Cid decided he didn't want to play "boy gets boy, boy loses boy, boy gets boy back." He left Vincent there without another word and went to bark out orders at the idiot trainee on the deck. He was almost ready to be a full-fledged pilot, but Cid was unduly harsh and again put off the kid's test. Flying was the last thing on his mind for a change.

No, Cloud was foremost in his thoughts. That, and the urge to punch out his pretty little nose next time he saw the so-called leader. He had to turn and take another route back to his room when he ran into him telling Yuffie he wasn't about to sign anything about Materia at a time like this. Young, energetic, supple…a freak of Mako, yes, but undeniably with his own sort of sex-appeal. No wonder Vincent jumped the kid… it was such a pisser that he had to restrain a look of disgust as he turned to head down another corridor.

"Cid," Cloud called suddenly.

Cid stopped and leaned on the hull, resisting the urge to clench his fists. _Holy crap…_ he realized as it hit him. _I'm really friggin' jealous! It's hard to believe but its true…_ "Yeah?"

"You gotta minute?"

_Here it comes… He's gonna get in my face and I'll knock his fucking teeth out…_

Cid let Cloud come to him before he turned around with a false look of innocence. He searched those glowing eyes for some indication of conflict, but it seemed thatVincent wasn't the topic Cloud had in mind.

"I've been talking to everyone. They seem ready."

"Ready?"

"For Sephiroth."

A chill went up Cid's spine. If one thing bonded them all together as AVALANCHE, it was either a hatred for ShinRa, a vendetta against Sephiroth or an uncomfortable in-between. No one was going to go to North Crater and come back the same… if at all. And with Meteor acting as a timer, counting down the seconds to impact, their time was coming up a little short. Act soon… or not at all.

However, Cid couldn't bring himself to save the Planet or whatever until he could save the one person who meant something to him from himself. If he had to topple Cloud in the process, then so be it…

"You talk to Vincent too?" Cid asked. Bad move, but he couldn't help it. Tension sprang up as Cloud immediately took a defensive position in the conversation. There was some weary hesitation, then a slow answer.

"Yeah. I did."

"Really?"

The imminent fight must have been obvious. Red XIII raised his head sleepily from the top of the stairs to the deck. Cloud squinted and his pretty lips sort of sneered. Attention. Not good. But to kick Cloud's ass for the betrayal that Cid felt…

Cid didn't even realize that Vincent watching them until he brushed past in between them. They clearly heard a quiet but exasperated, "Oh please…" and it immediately iced the situation. Vince obviously didn't care, so why should they? Cid suddenly felt very foolish. This wasn't something to pick a fight over—and here he was getting ready to exchange blows like a frat boy over a love interest.

Love? Lust? Did it matter?

Cloud took his hand off the hilt of his sword with a scowl and walked away. Clearly he wasn't interested in pursuing the matter. Cid was debating whether or not to take him on from behind and bash his head into the stairs but Red was still lazily eying the scene and Yuffie was stumbling for the now occupied bathroom in the hallway. He thought better of it.

"Come oooooooooon! Who's in there? Hurry it uuuuuup!" Yuffie turned a very amusing shade of green as the subtle lurches from the Highwind Cid had learned to ignore over the years made her stomach churn. "Urrrrk…"

"There's another bathroom that way," Cid told her as he passed her. She muttered a thanks and dragged herself in the other direction. "And don't you dare blow your chunks on my goddamn floor!"

Cid glanced at the bathroom door, a little concerned. Vincent seemed in an awfully big hurry and he never got airsick… Not like him at all… He softly knocked, still feeling a little foolish from earlier. "Uh… Vince?"

"Go away," came the strained reply.

Cid frowned. There was the fair possibility that he just needed a satisfying shit, but unlike most of the rabble on his ship he was subtler with human matters like that. It wasn't like him to go rushing to the bathroom, as awkward as it was. Nah… he is human after all…

There was a sickening and cringe-worthy puking/screeching sound and Cid became alarmed when a trickle of blood oozed out from under the door. "Holy shit… what the hell?"

There was no reply. There was a crashing and a rush of wind. Bracing himself, Cid threw open the door, half expecting to see Vincent passed out or something but something much worse greeted him.

Blood everywhere. Black sticky goo… claw marks… the open window… The memory made Cid feel ill. It was something that he himself had experienced, if only in his mind. Chaos. It made sense. Vincent's withdrawals, his random disappearances…

"SHIT!" he cursed.

"Whoa…" a passing crew member commented.

"That's interesting," Red XIII noted, looking as disgusted as a whatever-he-was could look.

"Clean this shit up," Cid ordered the crew woman. "Red, come with me—grab  
>somebody with Materia."<p>

"What about Cloud?"

"Fuck Cloud," he muttered. "And keep this between us. I'd imagine I'd be pretty upset if someone found out MY dirty little secret…"

***

The search was fruitless. Tifa seemed to have taken Cloud's side, even if she didn't know the whole story, and so did Barret. Yuffie was too busy throwing up so it left a disappointing reliance on Cait Sith… or Reeve as everyone called him now.

They returned late, bruised from fighting off the random hostile monster locale and flustered from failure—at least Cid was. Despite Reeve's assurance that Vincent could take care of himself, Cid found himself sulking around the deck late into the night. Red was a little more sympathetic having seen the gore, but he didn't understand the extent of the situation either.

The Highwind was landed on a high plateau that overlooked Bone Village and the ascending mountains into the Great Glacier, so the night crew was asleep, grateful, Cid assumed, for a good night's sleep on the ground for once. It was quiet and humid but sort of cold as the fog rolled off the mountains. The night was still alive with the buzz and him of crickets and peepers.

Cid put out his last cigarette and sighed. It was really no use. Even if they did part on tense terms, there would always be that sappy apology when they were reunited. At least… that's how it worked in the movies. On a whim Cid clambered up the ladder to the very top deck of the ship to see if Lady Luck needed new paint.

And there he was. Here the whole time.

Silhouetted against the moon was the perfect demon, wings arched and sleek muscles ready to pounce on whatever was below. There was the sharp smell of blood and the soft sound of growled breath. Even as the monster he thought he was, Vincent was beautiful.

"Vincent…?" Cid called awkwardly.

The face of Chaos whipped around with a startled and angry growl, abandoning its previous query to slowly circle Cid. He brought forth his Venus Gospel, cursing himself for removing all but two practically worthless Materia orbs—Elemental and Sense.

"Get a hold of yourself, Vince!" Cid told the monster. "You don't have to lose yourself like that!"

Chaos' face contorted into an unsympathetic snarl and it lunged. Cid wasn't sure how it happened between the claws digging into his limbs and the enormous gnashing teeth tearing into his chest, but he managed to strike Chaos across the face with his spear, bashing the Sense orb into its muzzle.

_Darkness may rule you, but it won't hold _me _down!_

Cid was again at a loss as to how he pulled it off through snapped bones and fiery pain but he pushed Chaos' savage mind aside and dove into Vincent's world, armed not with a world of pain warped by terror, but the only thing he could think of that might stop the monster. Or just the first thing that came to mind.

The happiest memories of his life.

######## #### ### # #### #

"Lift off in 5! 4! 3, 2, 1! Brrrchshhhhhhhh! Zooooooooooom!"

"Cid! Your uncle's home!"

Cid threw the cardboard box/makeshift rocket aside and ran down the creaky steps. Seven of them. He remembered that clearly from the specific creak each made as he stomped down (how that trickled into his long term recall was beyond him). But the rest was fuzzy because it was from so long ago… the pictures on the wall had a blur to them because he couldn't remember the faces and there may or may not have been a window to the right…

But he did remember awesome things were to behold when Uncle Martin came home on leave. Fixing up the old Chevy or going over prototype blueprints were among Cid's favorite activities.

_How old was I? Five?_

"Uncle Martin!" Cid cried happily, attaching himself vigorously to the tall leg of his favorite (and only as far as he knew) uncle. "Didja bring me somethin'? Didjadidjadidja?"

"Whoa little man!" his uncle laughed affectionately, hefting the blond boy onto his shoulders. "Somebody's had a few too many sweets today!"

Cid's aunt blushed. "Well he gives me that look…"

"Never mind," Martin dismissed. "I've brought something wonderful, Cid! You'll LOVE helping me out with it…"

_They weren't your parents?_

Vincent's thought startled Cid. He's lost himself in the moment for a second. It was important the Vincent did too… he needed to understand that dreams came true no matter who you are…

_No… my aunt and uncle raised me. Not sure where my real folks ended up, but  
>I never really gave a rat's ass. They let me have a little too much sugar and didn't<br>discipline me much… but hey, it all worked out…_

"What is it? What is it?" Cid demanded, squirming about.

"My little captain, I had this brought into the shop just so you and I could work on it," Martin explained, stepping out onto the gravel driveway and into the enormous garage. A wooden frame stood, barely fitting into the confines of the shop. Engine parts took over the bench and blueprints lay scattered everywhere.

"**WOOOOOW!"** Cid marveled, demanding to be let down so he could explore the new invention. "What IS it?"

"A new kind of plane," Martin told him. "One that runs on Mako. It's so new that ShinRa is going to help us pay for building it!"

"What's a ShinRa?" Cid asked only half halfheartedly as he explored all the new shiny parts with his hands.

A dark look crossed the uncle's face, but it passed quickly and was replaced by the bristly grin framed by a blond mustache. "Just a sponsor. What are you going to name it?"

"I get to? Really!" Cid's big blue eyes got even wider, then he screwed up his face in childish thought. "It's going to be the Tiny Bronco!"

"So be it!"

Cid's memory fuzzed. That was so long ago that the details began to haze and blur. No, not good enough for Vincent… something wonderful. Orgasmically wonderful…

######### ### # ####### # # ##### # # # # # #

"Cid, you're crazy!"

"Hell yeah, I am!" he replied with a grin, glancing over the shiny red wing and kicking the last adjustment into place. "And Shera, baby, this thing is gonna fly!"

Shera had her arms crossed, clipboard lazily dangled in one hand. "I've triple checked your math and I am TELLING you that your chances of getting this thing off the ground are only 10%!"

_Lucretia…___

_Yeah, I guess she does kinda look like her…_

_How old were you?_

_Mm… mebbe 16…_

_Where's your uncle?_

_He died in that war in Wutai… I barely remember it…_

"Good enough for me!" Cid laughed, jumping into the cockpit and pulling down his goggles. "Give the propeller a spin, Shera! I'm gonna ride on that big juicy cloud up there!"

"You are SO lame sometimes…" she teased with a roll of the eyes. She put her arm on the propeller. "You crash, you pay for your own medical bill!"

"I won't!" Cid leaned out and kissed the girl's cheek, then strapped himself in. "Let her rip!"

Shera gave the propeller a heave as Cid started the engine. Ten years of work—most seriously worked on in the past four—kicked into action and the Tiny Bronco jerked to life. The propeller slowed and for a heart wrenching second failure suddenly loomed in. Then it began to spin wildly and Cid coaxed the controls to push the Mako plane forward.

40 mph

50 mph

60… 70 mph!

The Tiny Bronco was barreling out into the open field at full speed! Was it enough? Cid eased the controls up and the front wheels lifted… then the back wheels…! There was a dip and the front wheels skidded in the dead autumn grass and then they lifted higher… higher! Higher!

Altitude 10 ft…30 ft… 60 ft!

Cid pulled his goggles up to feel the whipping wind on his face, closed his eyes and lifted his hands into the sky, letting the Bronco go where it pleased.

"**YES!"** he screamed in exaltation, heart pounding in the ridiculous excitement of success, tears streaming across his face. The sky was at last his!

And Vincent drank every second of this joy, this unbridled ecstasy. He was in Cid's place, letting the air whip his hair around everywhere, saturated in the feeling that not even the horizon was a boundary and that anything was possible.

Vincent laughed. It was sort of a quiet giggle, but it was there.

He laughed in Cid's glory—a wonderful release of something buried and marred. Cid felt like he would burst with giddiness.

The Tiny Bronco began to lose altitude after hitting 200 feet from Cid's negligence to the controls in his utter enjoyment of the moment. He turned his baby around and landed her smoothly 100 yards from where he started.

Shera was running up to him, her face beaming. She was screaming, "You did it! Oh my God, Cid, you really DID it!"

"**FUCK** YEAH!" Cid cried, leaping out to meet her. He swept her up and spun her around and around in crazy teen laughter, stupid from the adrenalin and endorphins pumping through his system. "I told you baby! I told you anything was possible!"

Her hands were buried in his longer, blonder windswept hair, singing, "O captain, my captain!" They lost themselves in frantic kisses, then rolled on the grass with a sparked lust from the sheer rush of it all. The sun, the grass, their clothes… it was all a jumble if senses to Cid at the time. A scramble for pleasure and comfort and the bodily reaction… she was hot and wet and just screaming out praises for  
>him…<p>

By God, Cid was a man now! Losing not one but two virginities: Tamer of the Sky and Master of the Womanly Orgasm! There was nothing… absolutely nothing he couldn't…

Cid felt sort of awkward for his intense sexual lapse into what he and Shera did that day. He had an audience after all… _Uh… I was a little … overwhelmed at the time…_ he apologized.

_No, no, I don't blame you…_ Vincent sounded almost dreamy having been bombarded with emotions that Cid saw that he thought were long dead inside. _I envy you…_

_You don't need to. Forgive the corniness, but dreams come true, dammit!  
>I'll prove it to you! <em>

########## ##### ## #### ## #### #

"Shera, you're not gonna believe this! ShinRa is reinstating their funding for us!"

"_What?" _

"They loved the Tiny Bronco! And get this! They took a look at my blueprints for the Highwind, and they BOUGHT them!"

"Are you serious?"

"There's more! They want me to get involved with their space program!"

"That's amazing!"

"The sky is NOTHING compared to the stars! It's all ours, baby! And we're gonna be rich!"

########### ### # ## #### #

_Didn't that fall through?_

_You said it yourself. Circumstance fucked me over, mostly 'cause of ShinRa. But you were there, Vince. You watched me get into space… you helped me. I'm complete because of you…_

_That was mostly Cloud…_

_Fuck Cloud. It's just you an' me now. _

The sickening lurch of the rocket sent Cid's heart to his throat. Shera fretting over statistics meant nothing to him in that moment (though that had ultimately been a mistake). He was barely aware of Cloud clutching the Huge Materia and scrambling for his seat belt. At the time he wasn't even aware of Vincent, also clutching his seat belt, but staring with his cool awe at what Cid was completely absorbed in, unrestrained and uncaring.

Space. Earth from space.

It was so beautiful that Cid had even dared to let a tear escape. He was so hell-bent on being the first man in space and to be the first to view the planet from his rocket throne that it didn't matter to him who launched the damn thing. Neither ShinRa nor AVALANCHE had any meaning to him—just that what he had toiled over for at least 12 years had at last served its purpose; he was master of not only the sky, but the stars as well.

A vague memory of barking at Cloud to shut the hell up so he could enjoy the damn moment, then the sight of Meteor bringing them all to their senses. The moment he had waited for his whole life had come and gone, and it wasn't exactly what he had wanted but it didn't matter. He did it. His dream had come true in a fleeting, dreamy instant.

_I never saw it the way you did…_

_No?_

_I was sort of queasy at the time… You're right though, it was … breathtaking. _

The stars spun as they careened back towards the atmosphere. The ship was shaking and that alarm was going off… Chaos… pure Chaos…

_Do you believe me now?_

_What?_

_About being human. You can't smother something like that._

_I…_

_You need to come back from the Chaos. It's not so much that I'm gonna die.. it's just that I don't want it to be a waste… you know?_

_Cid no… I couldn't have!_

_Yeah…_

_That can't be! _

The rocket was shaking under the strain. Tumbling out of control… pain… red…

And then time resumed once more. The Venus Gospel went flying with the Sense orb and clattered over the side of the Highwind. The force of Chaos' pounce threw them both on the hull painfully. Cid let out a sound of forced pain but choked on blood. It was everywhere…

It was Vincent looming over him now, not Chaos, drenched across the chest and face with Cid's blood, looking horrified at what he had done. He covered his mouth, unable to mute the raw fear in his eyes.

Cid tried to say something cheesy like in the movies and animes where the hero gets a last dying word, but he turned his head aside and puked blood instead. The world started to haze. Maybe the afterlife was warm and sticky… no, that was just his blood. Dear god, how much can one guy produce? Red… so much… red…

"Don't … you can't…!"

Was Vincent speaking to him? Cid couldn't tell anymore. His arms and legs felt numb and cold. Red… red… red…

It didn't matter.

As long as there was peace beneath the red… it didn't matter… didn't matter…

End of Chapter Six  
>*****************************************************************<p> 


	7. One Last Secret

Chapter Seven  
>One Last Secret<p>

Cid woke up from a blank sleep that was too deep to dream in. His body tingled… there was a fading green glow and a faint breeze that was just dying off… Mako…

"Ugh…" he grunted, holding his delicately healed chest. He tried to sit up.

"I wouldn't."

Vincent was sitting in Cid's desk chair, pulled next to his bed. They were in his room… and he was alive… "Oh man… I thought I was a goner…"

"It is fortunate that you weren't."

Cid caught sight of Vincent's face. There were a series of scrapes across his cheek and nose and his eye was blackened. "Jesus, I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

Vincent let a small wry smile escape. "You're not the one who should be asking that question."

"Use that on yourself, Vince. I'm fine now."

"It's not the mastered one."

"Who the hell has FullCure then?"

Vincent shrugged. "That's not the point."

"You were gonna make a point?"

The pale man's shoulders slumped, skin almost glowing in the moonlight. Cid realized that both of them were shirtless—probably in the wash from all that blood. "I can't tell you how deeply sorry I am for hurting you. And… seeing how truly happy you can be has shown me how unfathomably selfish I have been…"

"What the hell did I tell you about kicking yourself?" Cid scolded, sitting up anyway through the pain and fragile scar tissue ready to break at any greater strain. "Hey, do me a favor? Get in my desk and fish me out a cigarette?"

Vincent rolled the chair back and rummaged awkwardly with his good hand and found Cid's fix and lighter with the silhouette of a nude woman on it. He helped Cid ignite the death-stick and sat back. The smoke made the silence less tense.

"So Cloud—?"

"Forget about Cloud," Vincent interrupted sort of sharply, not avoiding eye contact for once. "It's you and I for the moment."

Cid grinned. The giddiness returned. He had gotten through at last. The barriers had at last crumbled and Vincent was open and free with him, if not simple and blunt with his words. Cid preened himself with the idea that his inclusion was exclusive to himself.

"Are you ready then?"

"Ready?"

"For Sephiroth."

Vincent's expression didn't change. It was habit to mute automatically, Cid fancied, but he was beginning to be able to decipher his subtleties. It disturbed his lover deeply. No, he wasn't ready.

"Yes," he finally said.

"Liar."

"…True," Vincent agreed with a 'fair enough' half shrug.

"Is he really your son?"

Vincent leaned back into himself, but his brooding enclosed a wider radius that now encompassed Cid instead of shutting him out. After a moment he spoke. "He looks so much like Lucretia I can't be sure."

Cid was reluctant to point out that they shared the same elegant nose and luminescent skin tone. "He's insane, Vince."

"I know. That's why I told Lucretia that he was dead," he replied grimly. "No. I'd rather not know. He must die anyway, and knowing makes the sin no better."

"Cloud wants to move out soon," Cid pointed out.

Vincent made a little smile. "Then with the death of Sephiroth is the death of my repentance. My atonement will be complete… and though I will grieve his loss as if he were mine, I will let it go. It's time to heal. You told me that, Cid. And … I believe you."

Cid shrugged. "That or we all die. You know the whole all-powerful thing and then there's Meteor and Holy to worry about or some crap like that… the save-the-world bullshit…"

Vincent actually let a tiny laugh through his small closed smile. "I see now. It makes sense."

Cid smirked, glad that Vincent was at the beginning of a metamorphosis. "So what do you wanna do after we save the world?"

Vincent seemed surprised. "I… never thought about it."

Cid laughed. "Me neither!" He held his ribs from the sudden pain. "Ooh… sore…"

Vincent leaned over and pressed his warm lips against the wound, giving Cid goosebumps. "That was sort of a cliché statement, Cid…"

"Huh?"

" 'Dreams come true…'"

"Sorry for not being creative, but it was the least I could do, considering you were about to rip my head off…"

Vincent sort of looked a little hurt. "Your kindness daunted me at first…" he said softly. "I still don't understand why you would extend it to me of all people."

"If it makes you feel better, neither do I," Cid chuckled. "But don't question it, man. Aren't you glad I did?"

"Undoubtedly." The response was immediate. Finally, the recognition of something positive within him. He looked up with that vexing expression and it dawned on Cid. Love. The memory of Shera when they first started, before they ever fell out made him recognize it. Vincent loved him. And _that_  
>was <em>instinct<em> not to say, especially for a man—even more so for men like themselves.

Then again, it really didn't need to be said aloud.

The red was full of darkness—rank with rape, murder and decay. The red was a cold poison wall, trapping and mutating all that entered or exited.

But beneath the red rested the exact opposite.

Vincent was not the red.

_Vincent was beneath the red._

_End  
>******************************************************<em>


End file.
